Barbancourt: the Jewel of the Antilles

One of the few success stories coming out of Haiti lately is the perseverance of Barbancourt Rhum in the face of the country’s devastation. At first glance, the survival of a distillery may not be something to cheer about in contrast to the life and death struggles of millions of Haitians, but then again, Barbancourt, a pure sugar cane rum, has always been a source of pride to Haitians, and as such is a source of comfort for Haiti and those who love her.

Before the earthquake, Haitian expatriates and knowing visitors at the Toussaint Louverture Airport in Port-au-Prince would return to the U.S. loaded down with as much Barbancourt as allowable by law and bicep. Barbancourt’s survival is a symbol of survival for all Haitians.

CNN features a longer article on the distillery’s fortunes since the earthquake; Barbancourt figures it lost about a third of its yearly profit, four million dollars, in damages incurred during the 36-second earthquake. Closed for about four months for reconstruction, the distillery is back open. We salute the return of Barbancourt Rhum, one of the world’s best dark rums, with a rum punch.

I’ve had many a rum punch, some I remember, some I don’t, on the porch of the famous Oloffson Hotel in Port-au-Prince. Following the Twitter patter of proprietor, Richard Morse, I’m happy to report the beautiful old hotel survived the earthquake, its wooden structure standing strong in contrast to the poorly reinforced concrete buildings of its neighborhood.

This is a recipe for the Oloffson Punch, lifted from the Ladies United for the Preservation of Endangered Cocktails of Boston. They claim to be dismantling the patriarchy... one drink at a time. And I for one support that.

Oloffson's Punch

2 oz Barbancourt dark rum
1 tsp maraschino liqueur
3 oz orange juice
1 1/2 oz lime juice
1/2 oz simple syrup

Shake in an iced cocktail shaker. Strain into a glass filled with crushed ice. Serve with straws and garnish with twists of orange and lime.

Maraschino liqueur should not be confused with the juice from Maraschino cherries or other cherry liqueurs. Maraschino liqueur (Stock or Luxardo are two available brands) is made from Marasca cherries, pits and all, which gives the liqueur a clear, dry taste. If you cannot find maraschino liqueur — and a warning, it is hard to find — I suggest substituting a cherry liqueur (Heering is one) and eliminating the simple syrup. Cherry liqueur is sweeter than the maraschino liqueur.

Barbancourt not only makes a quality, consistentely medal-winning rum but it also serves as a model of how a business can be possible in the impossible state of Haiti. Before the earthquake, Barbancourt provided benefits for its employees, paid more than minimum wage, and offered scholarships and soccer fields to the town around its sugar fields. Here's hoping the company can extend that kind of community once again.

Mesi, Barbancourt, it’s good to see you back.

You have a year now to plan your vacation to NYC around the Manhattan Cocktail Classic, which wrapped up last night. The multi-day event in celebration of the cocktail is ever-expanding. It's an event not to be missed in 2011!

Article originally published on blogcritics.org

The Horses, the Horses, the Horses Are on the Track....

The word on the Kentucky Derby, and indeed on the whole summer racing season, is there are no quality horses this year. The economic downturn has greatly affected the thoroughbred industry with tracks and horse farms being put out to “pasture.” Here in New York State, we are facing the possibility of no Belmont Stakes, the third jewel of the Triple Crown, the Derby being the first. The New York Racing Association has had to ask a loan from the state which is a month overdue on its own budget, so you can see where this is heading.

Another sign that the gift horse has clearly left the barn, our New York City Off-Track Betting Parlours, the country's biggest betting receiver with an estimated gain of one billion dollars annually, filed Chapter 9 bankruptcy. This is beyond understanding - an operation whose business is to collect losing bets and many of them - goes out of business. But I digress. Weren’t we talking about juleps? Weren't we talking about bourbon?!

There's no lack of quality bourbon around despite the economy. And maybe because of it.

It's the first Saturday in May. It's time for the grand Mint Julep.

This recipe is lifted from Bobby Heugel’s Houston Press Cocktail Blog:

The Mint Julep

2 ounces bourbon

1 bar spoon rich simple syrup (two parts sugar, one part water)

8-10 mint leaves

1 large, pressed mint sprig

In the base of a julep cup, or a smaller glass, gently muddle the mint leaves and simple syrup. Pour bourbon over the mint leaves and syrup and mix thoroughly. Fill the cup with crushed ice and stir briefly. Pile more crushed ice onto the cup, forming a dome above the brim of the cup. Take a mint sprig and press it until it becomes aromatic. Garnish the julep with the sprig.

Notice how Mr. Heugel uses a sweeter-than-usual, simple syrup - a syrup he calls a "rich simple" syrup. It is a two-to-one ratio, sugar to water rather than a typical simple syrup: one cup of sugar completely dissolved in one cup of water. In making the julep, he recommends a moderate bourbon meaning a bourbon not too sweet or "wheated, an example of which he cites is Maker's Mark, or too rich or "rye-heavy" like Wild Turkey. He recommends Buffalo Trace, but I am fond of Tuthilltown's Baby Bourbon with the julep. Drinker's choice: the trick is to have a equilibrium between the mint and sugar with the bourbon.

For a cocktail in the same family, but something a little different, mixologist Bobby Gleason came up with a drink that every trainer, jockey, owner, and exercise rider could use - The Good Luck Charm. An appropriate expert for race day, Mr. Gleason is one of the world’s fastest bartenders. Last year, he broke the Guinness World Record for most cocktails made in an hour. But take your time with sipping this by the rail. You don't want to do a Danny DeVito under the influence of the Limoncello.

Gleason's Good Luck Charm

2 oz. Jim Beam White Label.

1 oz. Limoncello

3 oz. fresh lemon sour

5-6 fresh mint leaves

Shake all ingredients with ice until well blended. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass with an optional sugared rim. Garnish with a lemon wheel. Please note that the little pieces of mint that should be floating around in the cocktail are little bursts of flavor that are considered good luck.

In making the fresh lemon sour, another variation on the simple syrup, I looked to Kathy Casey. Her recipe makes two cups of fresh lemon sour. It simply combines one cup of simple syrup with one cup of fresh lemon juice. Place in a large jar with a tight jar. The lemon sour can be refrigerated up to two weeks or even frozen.

Good luck with the ponies. Good luck to the ponies. Without them, there will be no mint juleps on the first Saturday of May.

Article originally published on blogcritics

Can I Interest You in Some Dessert?

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nce upon a time, the martini was simple—gin with a wave of dry vermouth. Today’s martinis come in all shapes, sizes, and colors, and none of them are simple. Indeed, the only resemblance between the classic drink of Nick and Nora Charles and today’s martinis is the glassware.

And, of course, now we have the dessert martini. Credit for this yummy alcoholic sweet? Perhaps after so many green apple martinis in Jolly Rancher colors, the idea of throwing some chocolate into a martini glass caught on—after all, adding chocolate to anything is usually a good idea. Still, dessert cocktails are nothing new, and the dessert martini did have more than one forebear. There was the 1950s White Russian, with its milk-vodka-Kahlua combination, and before that, the 1920s classic, the Brandy Alexander—brandy, dark crème de cacao, and half-and-half. But brandy was then; vodka is now.

Vodka used to be flavorless, odorless, colorless. How times have changed. Today, there are more than 200 vodkas flooding the liquor market to keep pace with the Technicolor world of the modern cocktail, and there is nothing flavorless about them. Chocolate, espresso, caramel, vanilla, coconut…this resembles the dessert cart rather than a well-polished mahogany bar. But who’s complaining? The Olde Stone Mill (2 Scarsdale Rd, Tuckahoe 914-771-7661) has expanded its drink menu to include many dessert drinks; even the venerable Manhattan has raspberry in it.

There are gender expectations for drinks like these—men usually order the Scotch, women the sweet drinks. At Martinis & Chocolates (425 White Plains Rd, Eastchester 914-361-1182), however, bartender Deanna Mancini occasionally makes sweet martinis like the International-tini (vodka, coffee liqueur, Amaretto, Frangelico, and Bailey’s Irish Cream) for the gentlemen. Regardless of gender, it’s dessert first and martini second.

Originally published in Westchester Magazine.

The Income Tax Cocktail: Some People Call Me Maurice

It's that time of year... when the nation bites its nails, and every sound you hear seems to say: "I owe what?!" April 15th looms, the tax filing deadline approaches, and the only sensible thing to do is drink. Responsibly, of course.

I haven't uncovered exactly why this drink is called The Income Tax Cocktail. I can only assume it is so named because it numbs the pain of filing a return. The Income Tax Cocktail actually began as the Bronx Cocktail, "a sister to the Manhattan," as described in Ted Haigh's Vintage Spirits and Forgotten Cocktails, because of its call for gin rather than whiskey.

To further complicate the genealogy research, The Bronx Cocktail is basically a Perfect Martini with fresh orange juice, and was at one time a very popular drink. By a Perfect Martini, I mean perfect with a capital "P" — gin with sweet and dry vermouth. In most cases now, if you order a Perfect Martini, a bartender will assume you would like a well-made dry martini. Such are the times.

Back to New York City's northern borough, the Bronx: in 1934, according to some sources, The Bronx Cocktail ranked number three in the world's top ten cocktail list, which just goes to show you how old David Letterman really is.

So if you are keeping score so far, gin with sweet and dry vermouth and freshly squeezed orange juice is the Bronx Cocktail. If you add some bitters, it becomes the Income Tax Cocktail! This recipe is lifted right out of Ted Haigh's most excellent book:

1 1/2 oz. gin
3/4 oz. dry vermouth
3/4 oz. sweet vermouth
juice of 1/4 of an orange (squeezed right into the shaker)
2 dashes of Angostura Bitters

Shake in an iced cocktail shaker and strain into a cocktail glass. Garnish with an orange wheel.

This is a very easy cocktail to make at home but not that easy to find out and about. Even if you were to come upon a bartender who knew of what you speak, the chances of fresh oranges, squeezed at the bar, may be slim. But do try it if you find yourself at a haute cocktail lounge.

A note on the great Angostura Bitters stand-off: (Actually it deserves more than a note, probably a whole column, but this will have to suffice — I have to do my taxes.) Earlier this year, there was a worldwide shortage of this certain type of bitters that sent ripples through the bartending world. Due to a rift between the House of Angostura in Trinidad and its bottle supply company, production of Angostura Bitters stopped between November and February. People were frantically trying Fee Brothers aromatic bitters or The Bitter Truth brand bitters from Germany — both worthy alternatives but not the household name we know. Things are back to normal or so I've heard, and that's a good thing for hangover remedies that require ginger ale and Angostura Bitters, but you still might find the singular bottle scarce on some shelves.

Some old bartender guides will name the Income Tax Cocktail as the Maurice. Now the question remains: is it Morris as the British pronounce it or Maurice as Steve Miller deems it? Well, he is the pompitous of love, whatever that may be. My recommendation for how to order? Drop the Income Tax moniker. It brings up too many bad memories. Order a Bronx with Bitters and set a trend in motion.

You Had Me at Hello: The Whisky Podcasts of Richard Paterson

The podcasts for Whyte and Mackay Whisky may be superficially infomercials for its blended Scotch, but with Masterblender Richard Paterson, they are pure entertainment. If you spend a few minutes with the whisky expert, you are attending a whisky college as well as being tempted to buy a bottle. That's whiskey with no "e," don't forget.

The podcasts are not merely a "here, buy my product" marketing tool. They are an education. One podcast explains the history of the shape and color of nineteenth-century glass bottles. Another explains the distinctive flavors each area of Scotland exhibits through the country's 106 collective distilleries. As described by Mr. Paterson, some areas of Scotland have a scotch with a more peaty flavor. Others areas, close by the ocean, have a scotch with a salty taste. With no surprise and maybe more than a touch of favoritism, Mr. Paterson claims that the lowland area that Whyte and Mackay calls home gives its whisky a "light-bodied charm and and elegance."

Mr. Paterson too has a light charm and elegance. With his matching tie and pocket handkerchief, he has an elaborate and oh-so-entertaining routine when it comes to taste-testing a whisky. But, pocket handkerchief notwithstanding, there is no pretension to his repartee as there might be with some suspect oenophiles.

He pours a sample of scotch, swirls it around in a stemmed glass and throws it on the "world's most expensive carpet," presumably because of the many glasses of priceless scotches that have been tossed there. Why he can't pour the scotch into a sink, I haven't figured out, but I am amused every time he does it. He says that the force of the liquid coming out of the glass rids the rim of any "lingering" odors.

The tasting ritual as described by the Masterblender: the first sniff of the whiskey is to say "hello." The second sniff is to say "how are you?" The third sniff is an enthusiastic: "Quite well. Thank you very much." And we haven't even taken a sip yet. When you do have the courage to take a taste, please don't "knock it back like a cowboy."

The Whyte and Mackay website professes two things you must remember about Mr. Paterson: "If you drink the whisky too quickly, he'll slap you. And if he sees you holding a whisky tasting glass the wrong way, he'll kill you." But that kind of violence isn't really indicated by Mr. Paterson's methodical ways — at least not on the podcast.

There is some trendy instruction as to what whisky pairs best with certain foods. Or should I say it the other way around: what cuisine goes best with a certain whisky. The latter seems to be of more weight in the whisky world. Either way, the pairing of meals to spirits is becoming as de rigeur as wine pairings were last decade.

Even if you are not a whisky lover, which I confess I am not, take a look at Mr. Paterson's work; you will get an enlightenment into both drink and country. You'll get an understanding of the elaborate culture that Scotch Whisky has grown up around itself. And at the very least, you'll have a good idea of how to order a whiskey in a bar and how to dress down the bartender if he or she dares to put ice in that whisky.

Sake is Good for the Skin and other joys of Japanese Cocktails

If cocktail bloggers were to emulate Julie Powell and her famous online journey through Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking, they could do much worse than working their way through Yuri Kato'sJapanese Cocktails. Although there is not a year's worth of drink recipes here, by the end of the experiment, there is much more gained than dozens of techno-colored beverages in Hello Kitty hues on the resume. A culture is glimpsed through a very particular microscope, much like Ms. Powell's experience of Paris through that great cookbook.

Japan may not be well-known for its cocktail culture, at least in the tuxedoed Jay Gatsby, flapper, speakeasy connotation that frames most current expectations for old-school mixology. But that is changing, says Ms. Kato. Japan has much to offer to modern mixology.

It is no heihatsu that I received a review copy of Japanese Cocktails in the mail on the same day that I had one of the best Bloody Marys of my drinking life — a Bloody Mary made with sake at the Popover Cafe on the Upper West Side. A popover specialty restaurant may not be the obvious choice for cocktails, and sake may not be an obvious choice for a cocktail base, but the coincidence illustrates some ways that Japanese mixology can influence the present American cocktail.

Sake makes for a great base in mixing because of its lower alcohol content. About the same as a strong wine, the alcohol level is significantly less than vodka or gin — what is normally found in the pre-happy hour Bloody Mary. For someone is hunkering down to a long, luxurious brunch, less alcohol in the same number of drinks may make for a more pleasurable Sunday.

A bonus, adds Ms. Kato, is that sake is good for the skin!

Japanese Cocktails is beautifully illustrated: the reproduction of retro posters from cocktail cultures past, e.g. Suntory ads from the 1950s, are especially vivid, but Ms. Kato's anecdotes from her own experiences growing up in Japan are what's most delightful about her book. She has been the publisher of CocktailTimes.com for more than a decade, and she has obvious expertise in mixology, but as in any good conversation at the bar, it's not what you know, it's what you'll share: "My mother used to send my older sister and me to buy beer or sake from nearby vending machines for my father's dinner guests."

The book offers a history of Japan's unique spirit industry with sidebars that cover everything from cherry blossom season to the Harajuku girls. In trying out some of the recipes in Ms. Kato's book, I started out with the bright green ones first because I'm drawn to bright and shiny objects. If there is a cocktail that is the equivalent of Hello Kitty, it is Midori, Japan's famous melon liqueur.

In true kawaii fashion, two basic recipes for Midori are the Pine Soda:

1 oz. Midori
4 oz. pineapple juice
1/2 oz. club soda,

and the Melon Cream Soda, named for a favorite non-alcoholic drink served in Japanese kissaten cafes. It is very much a summer drink.

1 oz. of Midori melon liqueur
1 1/2 oz. citrus-flavored vodka
3 oz. club soda
1 scoop vanilla ice cream

Mix all liquid in a cocktail shaker with ice. Pour into tall glass. Top with vanilla ice cream. Garnish with melon slice.

One of my favorite drinks, and stories, from the book (and isn't that the balance to which we all aspire) is the Black Ship and its fascinating tale. The Kurofune Matsuri is a festival in Shimoda Port commemorating the arrival of Commodore Perry's ship. Every year, a communal toast signifies the end of Japanese isolationism. Opening up Japan had been tried before, but some think it was the arrival of the whiskey on Perry' boat that truly opened up the country.

The Black Ship

1 1/2 oz of blended whiskey
1 oz. pomegranate juice
1/4 oz of port
1 tp. lemon juice
lemon peel for garnish

Mix all ingredients except lemon peel in a cocktail shaker with ice.

Strain into a chilled martini glass, garnish with lemon peel, and serve.

The book is a slim volume; a few additions would have been welcome. As Ms. Kato says, it is not a Japanese custom to drink without eating; Japan's cocktail culture is intrinsically connected with its cuisine. It might have been an interesting inclusion to the book to note how certain cocktails might pair with some of Japan's more famous dishes. It is hard to imagine just how the Melon Cream Soda would fit in with any dish except as dessert, but I would have loved to hear more.

Another area needed more explanation for a Western readership — just where to find some of these exotic ingredients. I am lucky enough to have a Japanese grocery in the neighborhood, but others are not. Ms. Kato suggests ordering online, but some prioritizing would be useful. Perhaps a listing of what might be essential and what might be fanciful could save time and money. And as I found out, even with a Japanese grocery at hand, it's not always easy to find an ingredient.

Armed with the book, I ventured out to find yuzu juice for a Tokyo Sidecar. Soon I realized that knowing I needed yuzu juice is not quite enough. I needed to know what the Japanese character is for the yuzu juice. Once again, I found myself depending on the kindness of strangers who found the bottle on the shelf for me. Yuzu, it turns out, is a citrus in the family of lemon and lime, and the brand I ended up with was akin to Rose's Lime Juice.

The Tokyo Sidecar:

2 oz. whiskey
1 oz. Cointreau
1/4 tsp. yuzu juice

Mix all ingredients in a cocktail shaker with ice. Strain into a chilled martini glass and serve.

The Sidecar usually calls for a lemon twist. I did not opt for it, fearing to overpower the yuzu juice. I did load up on the sugared rim, although it was not called for. Hello Kitty would approve.

And speaking of sweet teeth, there is lovely chocolate in Japanese groceries — a whole new country of candy to explore. Domo arigato!